Kadavu Island, Fiji

I wake up early, to the tropical bird song, and the first fingers of a rosy dawn peeking through the curtains. I get up, stretch and decide on one thing: today, I am doing nothing. Nothing, that is, except relax on the beach. 

I have some of Fiji’s famously delicious fruits for breakfast. Pineapples, sweet and tart, soft, creamy mangoes, crisp dragonfruit, sour passionfruits and candy-sweet rambutan. It’s hard to describe just how perfect and fragrant these tropical fruits are, grown in Fiji’s rich volcanic soil and underneath its bright, life-giving sun. So all I’ll say is - they’re just perfect.

I grab my towel and put on my bathing suit and head for the perfect white sands of Long Beach, usually recommended as the best beach on the island. I step onto the sand and feel how soft it is beneath my feet; though it is a bit hot, and it gets hotter and hotter. I hop to some shade as it burns my soles. Feet no longer singed, I decide that for the first hour or so, all I’m going to do is lie in my deckchair. I sunbathe, read my book, and occasionally drift off into a light sleep. Finally, after seriously, really, fully relaxing, I rise and make my way to the perfectly clear, gently lapping sea.

There is almost no shock as I dive in; the water is like a cool bath. I do a few lazy breaststrokes and then simply float. I look back at the beautiful beach from the water, at the palm trees that line its edge, the perfect white sand, the waves stroking the shore. I look up at the forest-clad hills that line the background and further to the perfect blue sky, just a few clouds making their way across it.

Coming out of the water and drying off, I join a game of touch rugby, a non-contact beach version of the island’s most popular sport. If you’re not from a Commonwealth country, you may be mystified by the game, with its strange egg-shaped ball, but you get the hang of it quite quickly - you and your team get the ball to the end of the opposing side of the pitch without being ‘tagged’ (touched) by the other team and without throwing the ball in front of you. I try to remember my P.E. lessons as I dodge and weave through my opponents, but I’m really no match for Fijian rugby players. We lose the game badly, and I can’t help but feel responsible.

With the sun setting, I retire with my teammates to the bar. If there is one thing that links Fijian rugby players with those in my home country, it’s that they like to celebrate after a game. We share a boisterous night of banter, silliness and a bit too much hugging. With a few cold ones, we sit and watch the sun dip behind the horizon, and I think that, whilst it hasn’t been an eventful day, it has been a lovely one.